Night
by bacta.junkie
Summary: In post-war Diagon Alley, the nightlife has become a dangerous, exciting place to be. Draco lives it up, but when he meets a girl who's just as intense and maybe even a little bit crazier than he is, he might have to rethink his new lifestyle. My first multi-chapter fic. Review please!
1. Prologue

**I had some trouble with this one at first. As with all my stories, this is based on real-life events from my experiences. This will be my longest story to date. Enjoy, and please review.  
Disclaimer: All copywritten names and locations in this document belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner brothers Entertainment.**

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He'd stopped sleeping more than a few hours a night years ago. He had no deep psychological reason for it; he didn't have nightmares, he didn't have insomnia. He just didn't like sleeping. It took too much time out of his life. If he slept a full eight hours a night, he reasoned, he'd sleep a full third of his life. There was simply too much life to live, and not nearly enough time to live it in the normal sixteen waking hours of daytime.

Gradually his body had adjusted to the lack of sleep. He no longer dreamed at all; he only rested. Somehow, by some miracle of magic, or nature, or some other force, he'd managed to subsist on two or three hours of sleep a night.

It had been more than three years since the Dark Lord had been defeated. Three years since he'd been given a chance to redeem himself in the eyes of the public, and he'd done that many times over by the end of the first year. Three years since he'd been given his own life back, since he'd been given the freedom to live however he wanted. Father was in Azkaban, mother was traveling the world, he had a flat Diagon Alley, so he might as well live out the life he'd never been able to when he was younger.

He was polite these days. He mostly kept to himself, speaking only to those he had to: shopkeepers, clerks, professionals, and the occasional reporter. He smiled often. He legitimately enjoyed his life. He had opened a potions shop in Diagon Alley, and made small talk with the customers. His flat was directly above. He travelled into muggle London occasionally, to run errands.

His life really began at night.

Diagon Alley, as the largest magical community in Britain (Hogsmeade was smaller, but had an entirely magical occupancy; Diagon Alley, residing within muggle London, didn't actually count, but was considered the largest all the same), had a considerable nightlife among young witches and wizards. The attitude was much the same as during the Roaring Twenties some eighty years prior, which had been brought about due to the end of World War One: "We may die tomorrow, so we should live it up today." As such, there were reckless and stupid activities going on all over the neighborhood, if one knew where to look. Draco knew where to look.

After the Ministry crackdown on the Dark Arts following the War, Knockturn Alley had become nearly empty. The area was mostly harmless these days- his own shop among some of the new, respectable businesses to open up there- but the area really came alive during the night. Despite easy access to several different pubs and bars, magical and otherwise, many of the young witches and wizards had taken to secret, private gatherings- speakeasies- at which to do their drinking and partying, free from the prying eyes of the general public, hidden away in the basements of the old, empty buildings. Many highly illegal potions with less-than-reputable effects- some of which he'd attempted to replicate, though he'd never admit it- were passed between patrons at these events, which made the parties prime targets for Magical Law Enforcement, the members of which were always looking to dispose of any fun to be had. It was at these parties that Draco came into his element. He could often be found drinking liquors and potions of all colors and effects. Just as often he might be on the dance floor, or maybe at a table with some random people he'd just met, talking as if they'd known each other for years. Several times he found himself on the receiving end of Ministry raids, though he'd always escaped before they found him. He kept going back, though. He liked the parties. They helped him meet new people, something he'd always had trouble with, and they made him feel alive.

There were other things he did at night, too. Draco had taken to several particular dueling clubs, in which highly illegal gambling went on and highly illegal spells were cast. To keep up his daytime reputation, he always went to the fights with plenty of glamour charms on; nobody would ever recognize him. He would walk in, place a sizable bet on himself, step up to the stage, and take on challenger after challenger, all night long, hour after hour. Having been on the receiving end of countless Cruciatus curses before, he was able to absorb and shrug off damaging curses that might kill a lesser wizard. Additionally, having been exposed to so much fighting and Dark Magic in his short life, he had an extensive library of curses, many of which bordered on illegal. He liked fighting. It kept his reflexes and his wits sharp, and it made him feel alive.

"Irration" Alley even had its own magically enlarged Quidditch Arena. Its location changed every match, and it never remained following each one, so it was completely untraceable by the Ministry, yet still thousands of witches and wizards turned out to each match. Like all the hidden attractions of the Alley, much of what went on there was nearly or very illegal; besides the gambling, many of the players played dirty. It was considered a particularly clean match if no more than two players per team were sent to St. Mungo's.

Draco had always had an affinity for the sport; he'd loved it as a child, and during his time at Hogwarts it was often the only thing he looked forward to. Yet this was a different kind of Quidditch. It was much closer to the rugby matches he saw than the football ones he'd always considered similar to the magical sport. Just the same as with the duels, he'd glamour charm himself before going to the matches so nobody would recognize him. It was only six months after the war that he'd tried out for one of the teams. Now he was team captain, and they were on their way to winning the Irration Alley Cup. Just like with the fights, he'd always place a sizable bet on himself before the game. He'd lost plenty, for sure, but won more than enough to make up his losses. He liked the game, though. It kept him fit, and kept his broom skills in top condition, which was always useful for a young wizard. It made him feel alive.

And so, he left the comfort of his shop each night, closing up and getting something to eat in his flat. Afterwards he'd leave via the rear entrance, glamour charms in place, and begin his prowling, looking for the next vice. He didn't need to sleep. He needed to live.

Today was no different. Draco woke around six thirty in the morning, his tea already prepared by his charmed clock radio- the radio itself a holdout from the war days, when he'd secretly listen to Potterwatch to see which of his old classmates had gone missing. He'd charmed the clock to wake him when his tea was ready, usually right around the time the paper arrived.

Draco had cancelled his subscription to the Daily Prophet long ago; he'd lost faith in the Ministry-sponsored propaganda machine. Instead, he now got subscriptions to the surprisingly reputable Quibbler; now that ol' Looney Luna Lovegood was in charge (she herself a frequent visitor to Irration Alley), the paper had begun doing what a newspaper was supposed to: printing the truth for the masses. Due to the fact that the whole staff was under thirty, it was the most relevant paper for people like him.

Today the headlines were more of the same: "MINISTRY RAIDS ON SPEAKEASIES GROWING MORE INTENSE"; "IRRATION ALLEY QUIDDITCH CUP APPROACHING"; it was all stuff he'd seen before. However, there was one headline that caught his eye. It was an article about him. Well, not exactly. The headline read, "DRAGON WOWS FANS, SPECTATORS". "Dragon" was the name he went out at night bearing. Unoriginal, yes, but he'd yet to be found out.

He read through the article once, then again, and then a third time. Apparently, some of the reporters were collecting information on his exploits. It had his fighting record (undefeated, with nearly eighty wins in a row so far), his Quidditch record (14 wins, 3 losses so far this season- he was pushing his team for the Cup), and even some notable nightclubs he often frequented. It surprised him that his alter ego had become something of a celebrity. He'd have to be more careful; the whole point of the glamour charms was to avoid being noticed. Oh, well; as long as somebody didn't recognize him as Draco Malfoy, there was no real problem with the notoriety.

He finished his tea and set the paper aside; he'd read the rest later. He had a shop to run.

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**I'll have the next chapter up in a day or two. Hope you liked it :)**


	2. An Anything but Ordinary Friday

**And now begins my most epic tale to date. I'm writing these as I publish them, so even though I have a good idea of how this story will end, it hasn't actually been written yet. Feel free to PM me your ideas/predictions, and if I like them enough, I might just work them into the story!**

Draco descended the staircase to his shop, just like he did every morning. He went to check on his long-term potions, just like he did every morning. He picked up the box of new ingredients that was dropped on his back door every Friday. The goblins were efficient, he noted. Eight months of running the store and they hadn't missed a single Thursday, even when it was Christmas Eve and the store was closed.

He used his wand to shelve all the ingredients in the box simultaneously, then opened the front door and displayed the "open" sign by hand. Some things were just better done manually, no matter how insignificant they seemed.

For the first few hours of the day, nothing particular happened. A few of his regular customers stopped by. He chatted about brews they'd told him of that were in progress, asked them how their families were doing, etc. He sold a few phails of this, a few handfuls of that. It was late August, so soon the Hogwarts students would flood his store, needing new supplies for their potions classes. He chuckled at the memory absently. For now, his shop was mostly empty. Strange, for a Friday.

For the next few hours of the day, nothing particular happened.

With only ten minutes until closing time, ten minutes until he'd ascend his staircase, change his appearance, and become a different man, someone entered his shop that would change his life forever.

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Hermione Granger had seen many things in her life, but despite being smarter than literally all of the Ravenclaws, even she didn't expect to see Draco Malfoy behind the counter of the new Potions shop in Diagon Alley.

Now Hermione had seen the way the Ministry handled the months leading up to the War, and had lost faith in them like most of the other younger members of wizarding society. She decided against joining the Ministry, as she had planned, and instead began working at a private law firm as a defense attorney. She had a big case coming up- the biggest of her career so far, and she figured she could use a little luck in the courtroom. She had heard from a few colleagues of the new potion shop, and decided she'd buy a bottle of Felix Felicis- she had the funds to spare, and it couldn't very well do any harm, now could it?

The absolute _last _thing she'd been expecting was Malfoy running the place.

"Draco Malfoy." She nearly turned around right there, but she'd set her mind on that potion, and her coworkers had insisted that his was the best potion shop in town these days.

"Hermione Granger! It's been a while, now, hasn't it?" He smirked, genuinely surprised to see her, and a bit pleased. He'd been meaning to talk to her soon- he hadn't seen her since his trial, which she was present at- but it'd slipped his mind. She'd gotten much prettier since then. "What brings you to my little store, and so close to closing time?"

She was a bit shocked at his politeness, and nearly froze up. "Uh, uh, I'm looking for a… shit, I forgot." She was stuttering.

"That's a first," he chuckled.

"Shove it, Malfoy." She glared at him.

"Woah, woah, relax, Granger. Just being playful this time. No malice behind the words." He put up his hands in mock surrender. "You didn't answer my question."

She stood there dumbly for a moment, but regained her composure. "I'm looking for a phial of Liquid Luck."

"What might you need it for, Miss Granger?" he asked over his shoulder as he turned to check his stock for a flask of the stuff.

"I've got a big case coming up, and I wanted a little help." She seemed embarrassed.

He gave her a warm smile as he retrieved the flask. "Isn't using potions in court illegal? And since when are you a lawyer, anyway?"

"Since your trial, actually. I saw how you were treated, and wanted to make sure that didn't happen again. And yes, it is. But this is a very important case, and I'm willing to risk my career and my reputation on this potion. If I wasn't, I wouldn't be buying it in the first place." Her eyes, he noted, had taken on a color and characteristic not unlike a burning coal. It was the topic, he presumed. Talking about something she was interested in, something she was passionate about, ignited a spark within her.

He handed her the flask with the same warm smile. "No charge. Consider it a gift."

"Are you sure? I'm not sure I can accept this, Felix Felicis is a very expensive and difficult to make potion-"

"If you insist on returning the favor, why don't I take you to dinner tomorrow night? My treat." He turned on his charm, flashing a dazzling smile. If there was one thing not even a glamour charm could hide, it was his charm.

She returned the smile, but hers had a hint of sadness. "I can't. I'm actually-"

"Hermione, let's go, we're going to be late!" bellowed Ronald Weasley, strutting into the shop. "Oi, Malfoy! What are you doing here?"

"I own the place. What are you doing here, Weasley?" His eyes narrowed at the ginger.

"Retrieving my girlfriend. Let's go, Hermione. We're going to be late for the game."

"I'll be right out, Ron. Just a moment." She turned back to Draco as Ron left the store. "I'm dating him. He's taking me to see the Chudley Cannons tonight. It's our anniversary." Her face said she was happy about this, but her voice betrayed her. She was disappointed.

"He's taking you… to see a Quidditch match. For your anniversary. Shit, Granger, even I know you don't like Quidditch. And why are you still dating him? It's been three years. Shouldn't he have proposed by now?" His questions were a bit more personal than he cared to admit. He'd never taken an interest in her life before. Then again, he never had a chance to.

"I'm not justifying that with a response, Malfoy. I'll stop by in a week to tell you how the potion went. Thank you for the gift." She turned to leave.

"Draco."

"What?"

"Call me Draco."

"…alright. Thank you for the gift, Draco."

"My pleasure."

She left.

**Tell me what you thought of it, and PM me your predictions and ideas! I aim to please!**


	3. Who Says Women Can't Fight?

**This might be my favorite piece I've ever written. I didn't know how much I liked writing fight scenes until I did one. Oops! Spoilers! :D Now you have to read it to see what I meant!**

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Stupid, stupid, stupid. He should've known she'd still be dating that asshole. He shouldn't have given his emotions away so easily. He was a Slytherin. Slytherins don't just jump headfirst into stupid things like that. Stupid.

And now he'd be late to his first duel of the evening. He'd have to eat fast. He didn't like to apparate into the arena. It distracted the duelists on the stage, and it denied him the ability to make a flashy entrance. Oh, well. He didn't have much of a choice, anyway. He closed up quickly, making sure to apply all his glamour charms- dyeing his hair black, changing his eyes to brown, changing his skin tone and facial structure ever so slightly… he was unrecognizable.

Ten minutes later, after a quick dinner that nearly ended up on the floor- he'd never quite gotten the hang of apparating; he preferred a broomstick- he appeared in the audience of his favorite dueling club. It turned out he didn't need to worry about distracting the duelists. The place was packed. Two, maybe three thousand people crowded a room no larger than the Great Hall at Hogwarts. He pushed his way through to the betting booth- not a difficult task, since the crowd parted when they saw him coming. His reputation, it seemed, preceded him.

He was in a bad mood. He needed to blow off some steam. The best way to make himself fight hard was to put a lot of money on himself.

"Five hundred Galleons on each of my matches tonight. If I win them all, you pay out double." He looked the clerk behind the booth in the eye with a stare that could make a real dragon flinch. The man knew Dragon's reputation, knew that by the end of the evening, he'd be out at least ten thousand Galleons. He also knew that if he didn't take the bet, he'd be the next one on the wrong end of the legend's wand. He took the bet.

Draco Malfoy stepped up to the stage and became The Dragon. His mind cleared. His wand dropped into his hand from up his sleeve. The bell rang and his arm rose.

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Opponent after opponent, match after match… He won them all. Ten thousand Galleons and counting, in just four hours. It was now half-past ten, and he was on his best streak yet, when _she_ took the stage.

She had blonde hair and green eyes- a peculiar combination, to be sure, but the smirk on her face said she knew exactly what she was getting herself into. She was not to be underestimated.

He glanced back to the betting booth. The sign said her name was Helen, and that she'd just bet his entire winnings for the evening on herself. Pity he would have to disappoint her. She was pretty. If he didn't have so much money on this duel, he might have let her win.

The bell rang.

Before the ring had left his ears, three strikes flew from his wand. Immediately, she parried each, the third flying back and knocking him off his feet. He landed with a thud. The crowd drew silent.

He stood. Blood dripped from his lip. He was pretty sure a rib cracked on his landing. He'd fix it later. He held his wand tight, preparing for her strikes.

The woman shot off five curses in quick succession. He blocked each, but they physically taxed him. He started running at her, shouting off curses. He'd never fought this hard before; the crowd was in chaos.

It was nearly an hour before one of them landed another strike. He'd exhausted every spell in his library, and she just kept throwing more at him, curses and jinxes he'd never even heard of before, let alone practiced. Finally, she caught him off guard, and as the curse struck home, he couldn't help but note how familiar this particular curse was. The words that left her mouth were, he recalled, "_Sectum Sempra_".

As the pool of blood around him expanded and his vision grew darker, he had the good sense to perform every healing spell he could think of on himself before he blacked out.

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He woke in a St. Mungo's hospital bed. A quick check beneath his sheets proved to him that he hadn't needed surgery; his last spells had worked. A check of the clock showed it was about two o' clock the following morning; he'd only been out for a few hours. He donned his clothes, left on a chair beside him, and apparated straight out of the room back to the dueling club. He needed to pay up on his bets, and he just had to find out who this woman was. Besides, he didn't check himself in, and his glamour charms were still active, so he didn't need to check himself out either.

He landed in the same place he had the previous time. The crowd was still there, still just as loud, and still just as chaotic. He went, as with earlier, straight to the betting table. He gave the man at the table a key to his vault at Gringott's and a note to the goblins asking them to withdraw ten thousand Galleons from his account and give the money to the clerk. His business would earn that back by the end of the month, and if not, he could always just take more out of his parents' account. Not like they needed it.

It was when he turned around to watch the duel that he noticed the woman was still there. Though the crowd treated him with the same mix of fear and respect as they had when he'd last been there, they were all fixed on her fighting. Three men, clearly experienced (he'd fought them each himself before), were all attempting to best her at the same time, and they were all losing, badly. He watched in awe as she deflected a shot from one in the second, then ducked beneath the third's next strike, hitting him with a curse of her own and knocking him off the stage, scoring another victory.

He stepped up to the stage himself. It was time for payback.

She didn't notice. She was distracted. He fired off two shots each at the men she was fighting, knocking them both off the stage, then two more at her directly. She turned around to see who'd struck at her attackers- just fast enough to watch two curses connect with her chest, sending her spiraling into the ground.

The woman stood once more, slowly, gripping her wand tight. As soon as she was standing, he fired another curse, and then another, and then a third. She blocked two, but the third hit her dead on. She flew off of the stage, landing on the hard ground in the audience with a painful oomph. The crowd again turned completely silent. He held his wand out at arm's length, then fired it into the sky, red sparks and flares rocketing from the tip. The crowd erupted.

The Dragon stepped off the stage and took back his earnings. His vault key returned to his pocket, and the note to the goblins burst into flame spontaneously. He winked at the clerk, telling the terrified man to consider them even. He turned around to leave, and caught his furious opponent stumbling out of the building and onto the street.

He pursued.

**Suggestions? Comments? Predictions? I'd love to hear what you think of it!**


	4. Making Friends Out of Enemies

**Shortest chapter so far. I'll try to keep up this chapter-a-day thing. Enjoy :)**

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Draco had a hard time keeping up with the nimble witch; no wonder she beat him earlier. He finally stopped her with a quick "impedimenta" as she rounded a corner. The woman tumbled to the ground. Draco caught up with her as she was about to stand, but his wand in her face suggested she do otherwise, so she remained on the ground. She clearly wasn't happy about it.

"Malfoy." The word was acid in her voice.

Her voice.

He knew it from somewhere.

"How do you know my name?" This was a serious puzzle. In several years of going out under glamour charms, he'd never been recognized by anyone. If his alter ego was exposed, he'd have to make a new one, or else stop going out at night altogether.

"Please. The Dragon? It's your name, translated into English. Could you be any more obvious?"

"You're the first person in three years to figure it out. Clearly, I could." He withdrew his wand, helping the woman to her feet. "Why did you leave in such a hurry? You had no reason to be angry. Hell, you fought better than I did. The only reason I won is because I caught you by surprise."

"Exactly."

"Huh?"

"If you were in the midst of a duel against three opponents you had a lot of money riding on, and some arsehole you'd already beaten interrupted and knocked you off of the stage, you'd be pretty pissed too." They began strolling down the alley at a leisurely pace, slowly making their way back towards his workplace and residence, though if he was being honest, he might have been leading her there.

"Hey, I lost ten thousand Galleons on our first match. I just wanted to make it back. If it makes you feel better, I'll pay you back what you lost. How much did you have on that duel?"

"Ten thousand Galleons."

"…Maybe next time, then." He shrugged. "Besides, the way you were fighting, you could make that money back in a night."

"I guess. You weren't too bad out there either, Malfoy." She punched him playfully in the shoulder.

"Don't call me that when I'm like this. You might know who I am, but nobody else does, and I'd like to keep it that way." He gave her a stern glare so she knew he meant business. She shrugged. "And I exhausted my entire library of spells. You were still tossing more out when I went down."

"Well, it's not your fault I'm better than you." She smirked at him. If he didn't know better, he'd have guessed she was a Slytherin back at Hogwarts.

"I suppose, now that you mention it, I haven't actually updated my library since my school days."

"You mean, since your Death Eater days."

He suddenly felt uncomfortable. "I don't talk about that. That was a chapter of my life I'd be happy to forget about."

She smiled sympathetically at him. "If you really want to get better, I'd be happy to give you lessons."

"Lessons? You mean, like, during the day?"

"Of course. Consider it repayment for that massive sum of money you so dastardly _stole _from me this evening."

He chuckled. "Deal. On one condition."

"What's that?"

"You have to be my new dueling partner. I'll help you earn back that money, and I won't even ask for any of the winnings. Consider _that _your repayment." He smirked at her.

She seemed to consider the offer for a moment, then stuck her hand out. He shook it. "You've got yourself a deal… Dragon." She giggled.

They'd arrived at his shop. He'd unconsciously walked nearly half a mile with this woman. "Would you like to come inside for tea? It's nearly morning."

"I have to be home soon. Thank you for the offer." She hesitated for a brief moment, then kissed his cheek. "Goodnight, Draco."

Before he had time to react any further than blushing, she'd turned on the spot and disappeared.

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**I do so love hearing what you think of it... ;)**


	5. An Ordinary Saturday

**I know these last two have been short chapters. I was hoping they'd be longer, but this is really just a filler chapter. I'll start on the next chapter immediately, it should be longer, and it should be done and uploaded by midnight EST. In the meantime, enjoy this look into the daily life of Draco Malfoy.**

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Draco awoke the following morning with a wicked ache, as though his whole body was in a dull, throbbing pain simultaneously. The previous night's memories came rushing back, and he recalled spending some time asleep in the hospital. That explained the aches. A quick painkiller from his stocks and he'd be back to normal. Relatively, anyway. Given the previous day's events, along with the following early morning, he wasn't so sure his life would ever be truly normal.

The young wizard sat up, attempting to ignore the pain. Smashing a fist down on the snooze button, he retrieved his tea and his wand, along with his Quibbler. Once seated at his kitchen table, he accio'd a painkiller flask from downstairs. He downed it in one gulp, tossing the flask into the sink; he'd wash it out and reuse it later.

Tea washed the potion down nicely. All potions tasted horrible, to keep people from getting addicted to the taste. He glanced through the articles in his paper. More raids. A few stories on international relations. Scores from the previous night's Quidditch matches. The Goblins were getting a bit too good; he might have to put a few of their players in the hospital during their next match…

He absently gazed over the Quibbler, sipping the last of his tea and flipping through the pages. It wasn't long until he found something that interested. An article on the girl he'd met the previous night. He'd almost expected something of the sort; anyone who could end his undefeated streak would make the headlines.

Her full name, it was reported, was Helen of Troy. The name he recognized, from some books on the shelves in the manor. A Greek woman, from the ancient times. Interesting choice for an alter ego, but everyone had their muses. It was her vices he was more interested in.

It turned out those three she'd been fighting were part of a larger group before he showed up. Several large men had decided that women shouldn't be allowed to duel, and had attempted to force her off the stage. She'd fought off eight men in total, the last three being the ones he'd dealt with. The article went on to note how she'd bested him after a particularly long duel, and added that after he won the rematch, she'd stormed out. It also stated that he'd been seen chasing her out, but didn't speculate on anything further. The article ended with, "Let nobody wonder whether women can fight. This one certainly can, and she won't be stopping anytime soon."

He chuckled. Given his previous night's conversation with her, he was sure of that.

The store was a bit busier than the previous day. The Ministry was off work on the weekends, so all the Ministry employees' potions needs had to be filled during that time. Thus, Saturdays were always his busiest days, since he was closed on Sundays, like most shops in the Alley. As such, he rarely slept Saturday nights at all, preferring to play Quidditch or party the night away and sleep all of Sunday to recharge his batteries for another week of very little sleep. It wasn't a perfect system, but it worked well for him.

He opened the store at seven, as usual. Within minutes, the store was busy. He'd always considered hiring extra help, just for the Saturdays, but he was a Malfoy, and Malfoys didn't ask for help, even if they payed for it. He sold off the last of his Veritaserum at a very high price to a pair of Unspeakables who, of course, couldn't tell him why they needed it. He received a visit from Professor Slughorn, who purchased several large quantities of basic potions supplies in preparation for the following year's classes, and also dropped off a list of students who would be unable to pay for their supplies due to economic reasons, telling him to charge anything they bought to the school's account. During his lunch break he received a visit from his old pal Blaise Zabini, his Quidditch team's chaser, to discuss their strategies for the night's game. The Italian had been the only person who knew the Dragon's true identity, until the previous evening. Shortly after his lunch break, he received an owl from the director of the Ministry's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, requesting a gratuitous amount of Wolfsbane potion, though it didn't specify why. Draco didn't really want to know. He returned the owl, asking for a Ministry courier to come pick up the potions and deliver appropriate compensation.

As always, he closed the shop at six, cooking dinner with a bit of useful magic from One Minute Feasts – It's Magic!, the cookbook his mother got him as a housewarming gift. As always, he put his glamour charms in place, settling into the persona of the Dragon, the most famous man in Irration Alley. And as always, he stepped out the back door just as the English sun set, striding purposefully towards his favorite place- The Irration Alley Quidditch Stadium.

**I'm quite proud of the continuity in this chapter. Canon details I actually had to look up in the Harry Potter Wikipedia, like the fact that Zabini plays Chaser or the correct spelling for Veritaserum. I hope these little details aren't lost on you, dear readers, because there's nothing more pleasing to an author than when his readers notice the tiny details. Anyway, the next chapter should be up in a few hours. Thanks for reading, and stay tuned for the Quidditch Match!**


	6. Regulation Quidditch is for Wimps

**This is the longest chapter so far, and also my favorite. Then again, my favorite is always the most recent one I wrote. I'll stop pointing out my favorites now. I really love writing this, and can't wait to finish it. Once again, if you have any ideas or predictions, feel free to PM me. I'm open to suggestions, and love hearing what you think of it. :)**

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The matches always occurred in different places, to avoid Ministry raids- though Draco wasn't entirely sure why. A large percentage of the people living in the Alley were Ministry employees, and some of these matches had several thousand people in attendance, meaning at least some of the people watching them worked for the Ministry. Nevertheless, the location for the stadium was always in a different place, unknown even to the players and attendees. The only people who knew where the stadium was were the Co-Commissioners for the league: Fred and George Weasley. The twins used their shop in Diagon Alley as a sort of portal to the stadium; though the interior of the stadium was always in a different building, the only way to get there was via one of many portkeys kept in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in a locked box. Should the Aurors be on the warpath, the two always had advanced warning, as their youngest brother and brother-in-law were themselves Aurors. They simply played dumb when the law enforcement showed up, and otherwise handed out the portkeys to whoever had tickets.

This particular match was between Draco's team, the Basilisks (the name wasn't his idea, he just tried out for the team because he liked it), and their cross-town rivals, the Griffins, led by former Gryffindor Oliver Wood.

Draco, under his guise, entered the twins' store. He'd always appreciated their ingenuity when it came to pranks and jokes. They were the only Weasleys he'd ever respected, during his school years, and that respect grew greater still every time he set foot in their shop.

"Oi, here he comes!"

"The mysterious Dragon himself!"

"Ready for the match, mate?"

"We heard the Griffins have a new seeker, young lad from Spain-"

"-Moved here recently-"

The two seemed to take the annoyed roll of his eyes as a sign that their chattering was vindicated.

"Relax, gentlemen, I'm prepared for every situation. I fully intend to crush the Griffins today, new player or not." He chuckled. "One portkey for the home team's locker room, and a large bag of your finest itching powder. Is that allowed on the pitch? Itching powder?"

The twins looked at each other and shrugged, simultaneously pointing out that "It wouldn't be the worst thing to happen to a player in our league."

Draco chuckled once more, exchanged the money for the sealed pouch, and reached for the portkey, which was, ironically, an actual key. His fingers closed around the brass, and he vanished from the room.

* * *

The Dragon strolled into the locker room, confident and prepared. He deposited the key on the hooks at the entrance to the room, beside the rest of the team's portkeys. He suited up into his Quidditch uniform, holstering his wand into his sleeve just in case. A quick nod to his chaser, some small talk with the present team members, and he was just about ready to go. He retrieved his broom from the closet, happy to note as he returned that his whole team was now present and dressed for the match.

"Alright crew, listen up. I received an anonymous tip from the Commissioners that the Griffins have a new player, a seeker from Spain. While it's entirely likely that Wood has informed him of our league's… lawlessness, it's just as likely that he disregarded those warnings and fully believes us to be a civilized, ordinary Quidditch team. Let's prove that bastard wrong." He produced the bag of itching powder, along with another, smaller, empty bag, which he duplicated several times magically. He then filled each small pouch with some itching powder. "I purchased this on the way in. It's a very potent itching powder. Suffice to say, it'll put whoever it ends up in St. Mungo's for the remainder of the match." He handed a single pouch to each player, who closed them and tied them to their belts for easy access, mimicking their captain, who had done the same. "Use this stuff wisely; it can't be magically duplicated, so one use is all you'll get. Otherwise, be brutal. No mercy." He stomped the base of his broom on the hard floor of the locker room. The team snapped to attention. "Let's kick some arse, mates." The team filed out to the staging area, mounting their brooms in formation and pointing them towards the tunnel that led to the pitch. Draco took the head of the arrow, Blaise at his right wing.

The roar of the crowd never ceased to amaze Draco. That little kid in him, flying around on his first training broom Christmas morning in the Manor, was always awed when he flew out of the tunnel and over the stands. This was the biggest turnout he'd ever seen. It almost seemed like every wizard in England was here to watch. He stood on his broom, balancing on the handle, and thrust his fist into the air triumphantly. The camera flashes were blinding, and even the announcer, broadcasting to the families huddled around their radio sets, seemed awestruck. He had never felt prouder, despite almost falling off his broom a few times. He settled into his saddle, taking his position as the other team emerged from their tunnel in a similar fashion. Draco identified the Spaniard flying in formation with the Griffins, jotting down a mental note to make a grown man cry tonight.

The whistle blew, the crowd was blocked out of his mind, and the Dragon took over.

* * *

The game had been going for nearly three hours, and the snitch had yet to emerge. The points had increased steadily, but both sides seemed evenly matched, as their scores were neck and neck, and had been since the beginning of the match.

Draco slowed his broom to a stop, nearly being ran over by one of his beaters. As this particular version of Quidditch had no rules, the sight before him was a bit hard to watch. Several brooms were on fire. The beaters on either team were beating each other. All three of his chasers were flying upside down, barely keeping a hold on their brooms. The Griffin's Keeper was unconscious, on the ground. This was a mess-

There.

The snitch!

The Dragon kicked in. His broom burst forward, catching speed at a ridiculous rate. He withdrew his wand, firing blasting charms at the beaters pursuing him- a highly illegal move in conventional, Ministry-regulated Quidditch, but this wasn't regulation Quidditch in the slightest. The Spaniard was right on him, however. Neck and neck, the two approached the golden snitch at speeds that would make a fighter pilot soil his pants. The snitch rose high up into the stadium, hovering near the ceiling, before plummeting straight down to the ground. Draco released his pouch of itching powder, laughing wickedly as the Spaniard collided with the ceiling, then turned his attention to the snitch, far below him. Pointing his broom at the ground, He fired a blasting charm at the ceiling behind him, giving his broom the burst of acceleration it needed to reach the ground as soon as possible. Flying straight down on the fastest broom money could buy, the G-force was unbearable, and as the blood rushed to his feet, Draco was close to blacking out. The snitch hovered in place for a brief moment, but changed directions once more, flying horizontal to the ground at mere feet above the pitch. Draco's broom was going far too fast to stop or change directions before he hit the ground, so he did the one thing left he could do: He jumped.

His feet left his priceless, state-of-the-art Sonic Rainbroom (20% cooler than a normal broom), which collided with the ground in an explosion of dirt, grass, wood and friendship. His hand stretched out to cradle the snitch. Time slowed to a crawl and the crowd drew silent. His fingers closed around the tiny flying ball.

He hit the ground.

He blacked out.

* * *

Upon his awakening several moments later, Draco uncurled his fingers, raising the snitch in his hand high up into the sky. The crowd erupted into a deafening roar. The remaining conscious and uninjured players on his team dismounted their brooms beside his body and helped him to his feet. He stumbled to his shattered broom in horror, making a mental note to send a letter to the builders detailing how fantastic a broom it was. He waved to his adoring fans, elated that he'd single-handedly won such a long and difficult match. And through it all, he clutched his sides, certain that he'd shattered a few ribs on that mach-7 impact with solid earth.

Upon returning to the locker room alone (the rest of his team did victory laps, but with his broom shattered, he couldn't), Draco disrobed, donning the clothes he'd arrived in. At least his wand hadn't snapped when he hit the ground. He shut his locker and turned to leave and was startled to see none other than Helen of Troy blocking his exit.

"How did you get in here?"

"I have my ways."

"Did you just watch me change?"

"Yup. Quite the body you've got there, seeker." She smirked at him. He blushed. "That was some game. I'm not usually one for Quidditch, but I figured if you flew half as well as you dueled, this game would be a hell of a sight to see."

"And?"

"I was right. That was amazing."

It was his turn to smirk. "Thank you. The games aren't usually that long, or that brutal. Our teams were fairly evenly matched." He frowned. "Why are you here?"

"I told you, to watch you play."

"No, why are you in my locker room?"

"To see if you're alright. That was a nasty fall you took."

"I'm fine. Just a few cracked ribs. I'll take the portkey back to the Weasley's shop and walk down to St. Mungo's. This happens all the time." He chuckled. It hurt.

"Alright, if you're sure you're okay." She sounded genuinely concerned. Quite the turnaround from the previous night, when she'd actively tried to kill him. He was touched.

"One last thing," she added as he made for the portkeys.

"Yes, dear?" he droned. She slapped him across the shoulder. He cringed.

"Sorry. I just wanted to tell you that if you're feeling better tomorrow, I'll be over to start your training."

"And if I'm not feeling better tomorrow?"

"I'll hunt you down and make you better myself." She winked at him. His cheeks flushed.

She kissed him gently on the lips. "Goodnight, Draco." She disappeared with a crack.

Walking in behind her was his team.

"Who the hell was that?" blurted one of his chasers.

He shrugged. "Helen of Troy," he responded as though it were the most obvious fact ever. Before anyone could respond, he took his portkey and vanished on the spot.

* * *

**I broke canon. I kept Fred alive. I'm not sorry.**

**If you're wondering what the whole business with Draco's broom was, google "sonic rainboom". You'll either be pleasantly surprised, or absolutely horrified. Review peoples! **


	7. Interrogating is Easier With no Clothes

**Oh dear. Three new chapters in one day? That must be a record. I have no special notes to add here. Just read, relax, and enjoy.**

* * *

For the second time in as many days, Draco awoke in a hospital bed at two in the morning. Once again, he still appeared to be the Dragon. His ribs had healed quickly, thank Merlin. Draco took magic for granted, having grown up with it, but it was times like this when he was just impossibly thankful he was a wizard. His ribs would've taken months to heal the muggle way.

Then again, if he were a muggle, he wouldn't have cracked them in the first place.

He did the only sensible thing a disguised wizard could do when hospitalized by an illegal Quidditch match: he changed into his street clothes, gripped his wand tight, and turned on his heel, apparating home with a crack.

He appeared in his kitchen an instant later, removing his glamour charms while he walked to his bedroom. Upon reaching the foot of his bed, he dropped his wand at the floor and fell forward onto the sheets.

He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was awoken by a knock on his door eighteen hours later. He'd slept through all of Sunday; his alarm never went off on Sundays since he didn't have work to get up for. That also meant his tea was lying cold on his kitchen table, and his paper dormant beside it.

He'd have to get to them later. He needed to address the knocking at the door first.

He stumbled out of bed, still wearing the same clothes he left the locker room in. It didn't matter; it's not like anyone saw him wearing them other than the people in the locker room and the orderlies at St. Mungo's. Still, that was a fairly large amount of people, including his entire Quidditch team, and-

Speak of the Devil.

"Helen of Troy," he muttered groggily. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"You're wearing the same clothes as last night."

"What are you, President of the Obvious Club or something?" She walked inside. "No, no, please, barge right in, it's not like I was busy sleeping off a potentially fatal injury or something."

She ignored him, walking straight up the staircase and into his living room. "Green. Lots of green." She sighed. "I should've expected that."

He chuckled behind her, but a thought occurred to him. "How do you know so much about me if we never met before Friday?"

"We have."

"What, did you memory wipe me last time or something?"

"No. And you can test me on that."

"I'm all out of Veritaserum, and I've never been particularly good at Occlumency."

"Pity."

He went to the fridge. "Can I get you a drink? Tea, maybe?"

"Gin and Tonic, please."

"Isn't it a bit early to be drinking alcohol?" he poured her the drink anyway, and poured himself one without hesitation.

"It's six, Draco. Look outside," she commented absently, downing her drink in one swig. He pushed the curtain back, noting with a feeling that he could only equate to being really tired of being surprised all the time that the sun was already set. He sighed, downing his drink with similar abandon.

"You never answered my questions," he called to her, turning away from the window.

"You never answered mine."

"You didn't ask any questions."

"Yes, well, I…"

He'd have been surprised if he wasn't tired of the feeling. "Did I seriously just get you?" He laughed. Not a chuckle or a smirk, an actual laugh. "I'll be damned. There's a first time for everything."

He sat on the couch beside her. "So my questions. Second one first, please."

"I'm afraid I can't tell you how I know you, Draco."

"You know who I am, Helen. You seem to know quite a bit about me. It's obvious your name isn't actually Helen of Troy, and you don't really look like this. I could very easily remove your glamour charms, but I haven't, and I won't, because if you're going to the trouble of disguising yourself even though you know I'm the only one who'll see your disguise, then you clearly don't want me to find out you really are, even though I already know you. Can you at least tell me why that is?"

"No."

He sighed in defeat. "Alright. But I will find out. I'm not satisfied with that answer. You will tell me. Eventually." She said nothing. "Other question. Why are you here?" He was wide awake now.

"To expand your library of curses, of course. If we're going to win back my money, you're going to need to be just as good as I am." She opened her bag and retrieved several heavy spellbooks.

"You will memorize these in their entirety, by Friday. You will practice them every evening on whatever poor bastard ends up on the wrong end of your wand. You will use only the curses you learn from these books, and you will give every sickle and knut you earn with them to me. Understood?"

He stared at her blankly for a moment. He blinked. Then he stared at her some more. "Wait, what?"

She sighed. "Merlin, this is hopeless…"

"No, no, I can do this. Just say it again."

She giggled. His spirits rose a bit. "You will memorize these in their entirety, by Friday. You will practice them every evening on whatever poor bastard ends up on the wrong end of your wand. You will use only the curses you learn from these books, and you will give every sickle and knut you earn with them to me. Understood?"

"Completely."

"Repeat it back to me."

In a perfect mockery of her voice, he repeated: "I will memorize these in their entirety, by Friday. I will practice them every evening on whatever poor bastard ends up on the wrong end of my wand. I will use only the curses I learn from these books, and I will give every sickle and knut I earn with them to you. Understood?"

She had begun giggling when he started mimicking her, but by the end she was laughing uncontrollably. Draco smiled widely.

"Yes, I understand perfectly," she squeaked out when she finally stopped laughing. Her smile fell slightly into curiosity when she realized he was staring at her. "Is something wrong, Draco?"

"Where'd you learn the spell you KO'd me with on Friday night? Sectum Sempra, or something like that?"

"Er, um… I read it. In a book."

"No you didn't. I only know it because Harry Potter used it on me in my sixth year. I spent hours that summer searching every spellbook I could find for that curse, but I was convinced I'd misheard it. Until you used it on me." He'd gotten closer to her while he was talking, and now, mere inches from her, his voice only a whisper, his eyes bore holes into her soul. "Where did you learn that spell, Helen?"

She was transfixed. "I… I…" She was at a complete loss for words. She had no answer. So she did the only thing she could think of.

She kissed him.

He kissed back, all memory of curses and books forgotten.

At least he finally got out of those dirty clothes.

* * *

**Oooh, implied explicit behavior... ;)**


	8. Same Shit, Different Day

**This is a short chapter. The ones without action always are, for some reason. Anyway, it's just as good as the others and contains some plot-crucial details, so if you're thinking of skipping it because it "looks boring", don't. You'll regret it. As always, enjoy it, and tell me what you thought of it. :)**

* * *

Draco awoke in a particular predicament that he very nearly saw coming. He couldn't help but laugh bitterly at the irony.

He was handcuffed to his bed, completely bare.

His alarm was going off, but he couldn't reach the damn snooze button (you know, because of the handcuffs) so he leaned over as far as he could, biting down on the base of his wand. He mumbled through clenched teeth, "alohamora," and the handcuffs fell off with a click.

He sat up. She was gone. Of course she was, he reasoned. She wasn't going to stay any longer. She was using him. It didn't mean anything, she just needed the money. And the only reason she initiated the contact in the first place was because she didn't want to answer his question.

He dressed himself, finally smacking his clock. Upon retrieving his tea, he discarded the previous days' Quibbler ('twas outdated now anyway) and sat down to read today's.

He read a particularly gripping story about new developing projects at Hogsmeade. Apparently several new shops were going up, including a branch of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. He wondered absently if they'd be allowing people through to their Quidditch matches from that branch, and if so, if they'd also be allowing Hogwarts students during Hogsmeade trips.

He saw a particularly gripping recount of his Quidditch exploits of the previous Saturday, which he promptly skipped. He was there. He didn't need some reporter to tell him how it happened.

He also saw an article on Helen of Troy, which he skipped.

Had he read the article, it would've told him that she bet ten thousand Galleons that he would personally catch the snitch. He'd have noted that she had visited him at his home under the pretense of training, knowing full well that he could hold his own against her and didn't need to learn any new spells, and that she'd still insisted he remain her dueling partner even though she'd already gotten back the money she lost. He'd have realized that she only came over to see him, that she lied to him just so she could see him again, and that she was sincerely concerned for his health and safety.

Then he'd have remembered that she'd tricked him into giving her his week's earnings, that she'd deliberately lied to him and kept secrets from him, that she'd tried to kill him, and that she'd handcuffed him to his goddamn bed.

As it was, it was probably better he didn't read the article.

The students were due at Hogwarts on Friday, so his shop would be busy. He propped his door open, restocked his shelves and prepared for the day ahead.

* * *

He was pleasantly surprised to see Hermione Granger walk through his door shortly before closing.

"Granger, why do you only show up right before my store closes?"

"Work hours. I'm at a law firm all day, remember?"

"Right, right. What's up, buttercup?" he smirked at her.

"Don't call me that," she glared. He raised his hands in mock surrender. This encounter was going startlingly like their previous one.

"Why are you here, Granger?"

"To take you up on your offer."

"What offer?"

"The one for dinner you gave me on Friday."

He was a bit surprised. He'd nearly forgot about that. "What changed?"

"A lot of things."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Ron and I had a fight when we left your shop on Friday. He started yelling at me about 'how can you be civil to that Death Eater scum'- his words, not mine- and I yelled back in your defense. Needless to say, we did not go to a Quidditch game that evening. I spent all of Saturday moving out. And all of yesterday moving in to a new place." She bit her lip. "I wanted to know if that date offer still stood. Merlin knows I could use a night out. I miss feeling like someone cares about me."

His expression softened. "You didn't have to defend me, Hermione."

"I did. You were right about him." She sighed.

"I'll gladly take you out tonight. Just give me a few minutes to change. I'll be right down."

* * *

Six hours later, thoroughly drunk on fancy wines and champagne, the two of them stumbled back to Hermione's new flat, laughing. It was past midnight and neither of them bothered to care.

"-So then the hippogriff turns to the goblin and says, 'Merlin, you stink!'" He collapsed on the couch. She collapsed on the floor, laughing uncontrollably. He watched her laugh for a moment, then began to laugh at her laughing. After a while, they were just laughing at each other.

Eventually, they stopped laughing.

Had Draco been less drunk, he might have noticed how similar this night's activities were to the previous one's. Nearly identical, in fact.

And Hermione woke the following morning in much the same situation Draco'd been the previous night, sans handcuffs.

If only Draco knew how ironic that was.

Hermione sighed to herself. "I'll tell him soon. He's not stupid. He'll figure it out himself eventually. It'll be better if I tell him myself."

* * *

**Twice in two nights with the same person, he just didn't know it. I think I'm getting good at these implicit graphic scenes. Use your imagination, kiddies. ;)**


	9. Draco is Confused

**This story is not finished, but it's close, one, maybe two more chapters left. Thank you to all my faithful readers who've kept up with my antics. I'm thrilled you all like this so much :)**

Draco saw neither Hermione nor Helen for the rest of the week. It almost seemed like they were both avoiding him. He felt bad about leaving Hermione, but he felt worse about Helen. Despite everything she'd put him through, he still cared about her, but he cared about Hermione too… He was so confused.

Luckily for him, running a potions shop is a very distracting enterprise, especially the day before the Hogwarts Express pulls into the station. That Thursday was his most lucrative day yet, and he felt the need to skip work on Friday to celebrate. He wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do with the free time; he figured it was either drink or sleep. Maybe he'd go visit Hermione and apologize.

Eh. Probably not.

Fortunately for him, the decision was made for him. Upon waking up Friday morning (four hours late), he arrived in his kitchen to find his tea and newspaper already being occupied by someone else.

"Helen, how the hell did you break into my flat…?"

"Good morning to you too, Mr. Grumpy."

He glared at her, drawing his wand. It flew out of his hand before it was even out of his pocket.

"And you wonder how I kicked your ass last week," she gloated.

"Why are you here?"

"To apologize."

"You've certainly got a lot to apologize for." He crossed his arms over his chest, cocking an eyebrow.

"I know. I'm sorry for lying to you. I'm sorry for keeping secrets."

"Keep going."

"I'm sorry I handcuffed you to the bed and left you there."

"Keep going…"

"I'm sorry I distracted you during our…studies."

"Not complaining, but go on…"

"That's it. That's all I've got, Draco."

"Can I have my wand back?"

"Are you going to point it at me again?"

"No."

"Here." She handed him the stick.

"I memorized those spellbooks like you said. They were very useful."

"You learn fast."

"I'm a Malfoy."

"Is that supposed to mean something?"

"…Nevermind." He facepalmed, running his hand through his hair and sighing. This was really awkward.

"I got the money back," she said abruptly after a long silence. She'd either just recalled that she had something to say, or had been debating whether to tell him. Most likely the latter.

"What money? The ten thousand Galleons?"

"Yeah." She smiled wide at him.

"How?"

"I bet on your Quidditch game. Bet ten thousand that you'd catch the snitch."

He grinned with pride, sweeping her into his arms. After a short pause, he murmured, "Can we still be dueling partners…?"

She giggled. "Of course we can, Draco."

Slowly, things started to click into place.

He put her down. "You made back the money I owed you on Saturday night."

"Correct."

"And you came over here to train me on Sunday morning, loaning me those books and insisting I pay you with the money I earned dueling. You made me recite it back to you."

She blushed, embarrassed that she'd been caught.

"And Saturday night in the locker room… you already had the money. You knew you'd won your bet."

"…yes? What's your point?"

"Why'd you go to all the trouble to keep me involved in your schemes if you already had the money?"

She giggled. "You're really oblivious, aren't you?"

"Enlighten me. Please."

"I care about you, you idiot. You're not just some dueling partner to me, and you don't owe me anything. I keep you around because I like being around you."

He slapped her across the face.

She slapped him back.

He kissed her.

She kissed him back.

"Wait, no, goddammit, I can't," he went off, breaking the kiss.

She looked heartbroken. "What, what, what'd I do?"

"Helen, there's someone else."

"…huh?"

"Her name's Hermione, she's a friend from school, and I really like her, and I'm sorry, but I made my choice, and I chose her. She's the only one I want."

"You're even dumber than I thought."

"I'm going to ignore that. I need to go apologize to Hermione right now."

"Wait-" he was already down the staircase, bounding his way out the back door.

"See yourself out!" he shouted as he left.

"Merlin's beard, how is he this stupid?" she turned on her heel and disappeared with a crack.

* * *

Draco Malfoy knocked on Hermione Granger's front door. Nobody answered. After several minutes of knocking, he was ready to turn around and leave when the door opened.

"Helen? I told you, I'm not interested- wait, what're you doing here?"

"I live here." She said, as though it were the simplest thing in the world.

In retrospect, it probably was. Draco wasn't thinking straight at the time.

"Huh?"

"Just come inside, you idiot. I'll explain everything."

She dragged him in, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

**Draco has clearly had better days. This will forever be known as the strangest day of his life. Find out why when I feel like writing the next chapter! :D**


	10. The Dumbest Wizard who Ever Lived

**Last chapter, then the epilogue. This is a short end. Thank you all so much for reading. :)**

* * *

Draco sat on Hermione's couch- sober this time- and puzzled.

"What is this about? Where's Hermione? Why are you in her house?"

"Wait for it… it'll come to you."

He pondered for a moment. She looked at him expectantly.

"uhh… I got nothing. Can you just tell me?"

She sighed, withdrawing her wand from her pocket and pointing it at herself. "Finite."

And just like that, before his eyes, Helen of Troy became Hermione Granger.

He was dumbstruck for several moments, completely at a loss for words.

"I… am the dumbest wizard who ever lived."

"Damn right you are. You're even dumber than Ron!"

"Let's not get carried away."

He stood, wrapping his arms around her. "I'm sorry I'm such an idiot, Hermione."

"I'm sorry I deceived you."

"Forgiven. This changes things."

"How so?"

He withdrew his wand from his pocket, flashing a mischevious smile.

"Well for one, it explains how you knew that curse. It also explains how you knew all those obscure spells, brilliant little witch that you are." He started pacing around her, twirling his wand like a cane. "And it means that I don't have to feel guilty about Helen. I still can't seem to wrap my mind around the fact that you're the same person."

"Hey, you did the same thing. If your disguise wasn't absolutely awful, I might be going through the same crisis."

"It also means we can do more things together."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we can go to dinner together, fight in a duel, and go back to my place all in one night. No more hiding our identities from each other."

"You weren't hiding."

"Bite me."

"Is that an invitation?" she smirked.

"No." her smirk dropped.

"Alright then."

He chuckled.

She giggled.

He frowned. "What?"

"You giggled."

"It was a chuckle, not a giggle."

"It was a giggle!"

"MEN DON'T GIGGLE!"

She started tickling him. He fought back.

* * *

Ten minutes later, their clothes were strewn about her bedroom floor.

"I just realized this is the third time we've slept together."

"Yeah, so?"

"I thought I was sleeping with two different girls."

"Draco! You cheated on me with other me?" she giggled, mocking him.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry…" he fake-wept into his hands.

"I'm going to have to keep a closer eye on you, you scoundrel."

He perked up immediately. "As long as it means I get to spend more time with you, I'll sleep with every girl on the block."

She slapped him.

He slapped her back.

She kissed him.

He kissed her back.

* * *

**Not quite finished. Stay tuned for the epilogue :)**


	11. Epilogue

**To avoid any confusion, I will point out that Draco was responsible for all of the articles in the Quibbler, either directly or indirectly, and is laughing because he's the only reader of the paper who knows the cause of those events, which is terribly ironic to him. Thank you all for reading, it's been a real pleasure writing for you all. :)**

* * *

**One Year Later**

Draco awoke in his bed to his same old alarm clock on an abnormally cold June morning. He was used to the routine, but as always, the worst part of the day was always waking up. It only got better from here.

He read his Quibbler and drank his tea, like every day. He saw the little note Hermione'd left by his tea, wishing him a happy birthday and telling him she'd be home around closing time, like every day.

He'd almost forgotten that today was his twenty-first birthday. Perhaps with all the commotion in his life as of late, it slipped his mind. His was a busy life, but it was fulfilling, to say the least.

He glanced down at the ring on his finger. It'd been nearly six months since the wedding, and he still couldn't believe she'd said yes.

The headlines in the Quibbler were nothing particularly interesting. Raids in the Ministry were dying down due to recent litigation by a prominent law firm, defending an innocent, anonymous client who'd been hit by the crossfire of an Auror crackdown. The raids were suspended pending an investigation.

He smirked. The things glamour charms could do these days.

He read down further. There was an article about a new potions shop that'd opened up in Hogsmeade, run by a house elf and a goblin, both of which seemed to be paid employees. The article noted that the owner and proprietor of the shop was unknown.

He chuckled. She made him pay the elf, even if the poor thing didn't want it.

Finally, in the sports section, he read an article about a character named the Dragon. Devilishly handsome, from what he'd heard, though they'd never met. Apparently, the man was retiring from the Irration Alley Quidditch League after leading his team to the Cup, citing distraction in the workplace and distractions in his romantic life as justification. The article went on to point out that curiously, the Dragon would still be dueling.

He smiled a genuine smile. He hadn't lost a battle since the day he met Helen/Hermione. And his library was expanding, thanks to her tutelage. The two of them made a great team.

He descended the stairs into the shop, opening it for business and settling in for yet another day.

* * *

It was a slow day, so he decided to close up early and surprise Hermione with a home-cooked meal upon her return. She said it was lovely.

Following dinner, they changed into their _other _work clothes. They applied their glamour charms, exiting the building and heading for a secluded corner of Irration Alley where, in an abandoned building, highly illegal gambling and dangerous dueling took place. They held hands and talked the entire way, earning stares from some of the newer faces in the Alley. The more seasoned veterans of the young wizard's paradise simply waved warmly at the two, knowing where they were going and for what purpose. Though the world had yet to discover either of their true identities, around these parts the pair was as famous as their daytime counterparts.

They breached the entrance to the arena, placing a large wager at the table and strolling right up onto the stage, not even bothering to stop the duel already in place. Standing back-to-back, the two fired hexes, jinxes and curses at their opponents well into the night and the following morning. Two, three, four and five opponents at a time. All struck down by the merciless fighting team that they'd created.

They were the toughest of the tough, the baddest of the bad. They were undefeated. They kicked ass and took names. They were the Malfoys, husband and wife.

The world didn't know their true identities. But they knew each others'. And that was more than enough for them.

**Fin**


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